


Breaking The Rules

by Corvus_Aconitum



Series: Rules And Ties [4]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Banter, M/M, Nick Whump, Teasing, but much fluff disguised as snark, no smut this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvus_Aconitum/pseuds/Corvus_Aconitum
Summary: You remember all those rules Renard has for his ties? With Nick in hospital, injured and unconscious, he manages to break all of them. Can you show care while spouting snark? Apparently our zauberbiest can.Can you be obedient when you are prone to ignoring orders? Sometimes all it takes is a familiar voice for our Grimm to be able to.





	Breaking The Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeamRenhardt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamRenhardt/gifts).



> I have a run, I want snarky, mushy Renhardt and hey, it's Christmas.  
> TeamRenhardt, a little bit of fluff as a kind of Christmas present. :D  
> Enjoy!

 

Breaking The Rules:

 

**Ties mustn’t be rough in appearance, that would be undignified:**

 

Captain Sean Renard has rarely to never been accused of looking less than impeccable. Even now the untrained eye might not even pick up on it, yet it is there: A suit jacket tugged on a little too hastily – not as pristine as usual. The look in his eyes not as detached and calculating as is his habit.

 

Renard isn't running per se, he is... striding with purpose.

It's quite late in the evening, Nick has been in hospital since early morning and not woken since then. Everyone with the desire to visit the Grimm has already come and gone, which finally enables Sean to pay his own visit without anyone the wiser.

It isn’t like he _needs_ to take a look at him to stay sane… it’s just his duty as his commanding officer, isn’t it?

Thankfully he is well acquainted with one of the doctors on duty, so it is no hardship to be let into Nick's room despite the late hour. In all honesty, Dr. Garreth has taken one good look at him, showed that kind of knowing smile, that has Sean narrowing his eyes in a clear challenge, and told him he could stay as long as he liked as long as he called should anything be amiss.

 

>>>

 

The Grimm looks like shit. There is an oxygen mask strapped to his face, beeping machines attached to his person and an iv drip connected to one of his forearms. His face is in places still smudged with soot and bandages cover various smaller or larger parts of his body, where burns have been sustained. Blessedly none of those are so severe that they will cause lasting damage, but they are going to be a pain in the ass for some time. Furthermore there is a severe case of smoke intoxication to be braved – the very reason why Nick is still unconscious and even worse off than he would have been, if there had only been burns and bruises to take into account. 

 

With a weary sigh the zauberbiest folds himself into the lone visitor’s chair. He is prepared to wait until his Detective wakes up - all night if need be.

 

**Always keep a spare:**

 

Seeing Nick lying there, unmoving and unresponsive, forces Sean to face a painful truth:

 

Ever since that first tryst Sean hasn't wanted anyone other than the Grimm, hasn't _accepted_ anyone else. It's not that he hasn't tried, it’s just never been anywhere near as good.

_Nick knows my dark side as well as the lighter one. He can keep pace with me like no one else can. He's perfe.... Oh, damn, what am I doing here? No need to get sentimental now!_

This arrangement with Burkhardt has been about sex alone – highly enjoyable for both parties but nothing more. Now he is sitting in a hospital room at 11pm because that impossible man has gone down in a burning building and hasn't woken since he's been brought here. Life really has a shitty sense of humor!

 

Renard resists the urge to take Nick’s undamaged hand into his. There are some lines not to be crossed….

_But if it would help him to wake up…._

_No, that’s just ridiculous!_

 

In the end he leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs, long arms and hands reaching just far enough that the tips of his fingers touch Nick’s. And if from time to time they actually brush over the back of the Grimm’s hand, well, there’s nothing to be done about that.

 

**Before choosing a tie, spread them out before you for examination:**

 

Time slows down until it can’t be felt creeping anymore - at least not by the Bastard Prince, who rakes his observant gaze over every inch of Nick’s body, as if he’s spread out there for examination.

He needn’t choose anymore, though, does he?

 

_It’s going to be this one or no one...._

 

Nick's eyelids flutter, he stirs and finally wakes. Sean pulls back from where he is sitting hunched over, drawing detachment around himself like a cloak.

 

>>>

 

Nick regains consciousness slowly and only after fighting through a thick fog. He needs quite some time to place the myriad of sensory input his body heaps upon him:

There's nausea and a whole lot of pain. It makes thinking almost impossible and pushes moving to a very distant part of his brain.

But does it also make breathing such a difficult task? No, not exclusively.

Every intake of air is laborious and… ah yes… painful though that’s not all. Everything feels kind of heavy… weighted down by an invisible force.

 

Maybe he should just open his eyes and look what will await him. It takes another painful but fortifying breath to actually do it. Despite obvious hospital smell there is a small part of him that thinks he is still in that burning building.

 

What he finds upon lifting heavy lids and blinking away that grubby feeling is confusing and just a tiny bit uncomfortable. He is confined to a hospital bed looking like a singed turkey, that’s escaped the oven not long before its time has been up, and Sean Renard is sitting in a chair beside his bed. The man is leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest and watching him intently. It makes him wish that he were able to do more than take wheezing breaths and look around tiredly.... Or that he were a little less embarrassed and able to hold that piercing gaze, which never seems to leave his face.

 

„C…pt’n.“

_If that hasn’t gone well._

 

There’s barely been a sound leaving his parched lips, his throat, lungs… wait, whole chest... hurt like hell and the damn oxygen mask isn't helping one bit with speaking.

„Nick. Back with us, I see.”

Renard's raised eyebrow makes his comment come out more sarcastic than relieved but there is something in his eyes, that Nick cannot place and is neither mocking nor derision. With a largely uncoordinated motion he pushes the mask away from his mouth to ask another question:

“Others? Vic...t'ms?”

 

_Oh, God, this really hurts... everything hurts... but I need to know._

 

“There have been no deaths. Only minor injuries among the inhabitants of the building. Actually you are the one worst off. Most likely because you went back in there to get the others out.”

Nick cannot decide, if there is reproach in the Captain's tone or not. He is here, though, isn't he? That's a surprise all on its own.

“Go...od.”

A violent cough threatens to rise up. Oh, no, that's gonna hurt... a lot...! Whatever it is that gives him away, the perceptive 'biest has already guessed and is holding a glass of water with a straw to his lips.

“Take a few sips already. My ears hurt from merely listening to that hoarse croak you call speech.”

Disguised under snark as it is, this one's a life saver. Nick knows better than to drink too fast but cool water sliding down his throat truly feels like heaven. Once the straw has been taken away, he closes his eyes shortly to regain some measure of strength and distance himself from the general ache throbbing through his body.

 

_What is Renard doing here? It's not as if he cares about me in any other way than that we have admittedly amazing sex._

 

He thinks that without spite. It is how it works for both of them. There have never been grand confessions of love, just acknowledgment that they are heavily attracted to each other. Only when he feels less like passing out does he speak his mind:

“Sir, you are here... although 'm smellin' like burned chicken and... grimy all over? 'm jus' surprised, y' know?”

 

Renard smirks and, damn, it looks good on him even though it annoys the hell out of him.

“Don't think this is any sort of sentimental attachment. I'm just gauging how long it might take until you are fit for... field work again.”

 

_Field work, yeah sure._

 

For being such an aloof, controlled person sometimes the zauberbiest exhibits well disguised bouts of teenage sex drive. Nick isn't about to complain. He loves the to and fro between composure and primal urges.

 

He is chuckling, then he is coughing and then he is coughing so hard that he cannot get in a single wisp of air and panicking and feeling like his chest is burning from the inside out!!

His vision blurs, eyes streaming, and he cannot stop hacking! He cannot fucking _breathe_!

Someone – Renard – is pulling him up into a sitting position, is saying something to him... pleading with him?

_No, surely not._

Whatever it says, that voice speaking directly into his ear is the one and only thing keeping him from panicking completely. Renard has pressed the emergency call button. Somehow he gets that, although he cannot concentrate on it right now. Machines around him are beeping like mad, adding to his fear and suddenly it is like he is in that burning building all over again. It feels like he's breathing fire... like he's going to die!

 

_Hurts... so much... need air...!_

 

His head is supported – almost gently – and his upper body moved forward slightly so that breathing gets a little bit easier.

“Keep breathing, you damn idiot! Just hold on until medics arrive. Really, Nick, if you slip away now, you are in more trouble than you can work out of!”

 

Lips brush against his temple. His grimy, sweat drenched temple. Renard's lips. The man, who is always bitching on about personal hygiene, is kissing the side of his head and holding him. It keeps him occupied long enough for a doctor and nurses to arrive and spring into action. Renard is moving away from the bed and Nick may or may not be trying to grab his hand to keep him from going away but in his memory everything is blurred, so he cannot be too sure.

 

>>>

 

Sean makes room for medical personnel, shocked in his very own way when Nick's hand grabs and ultimately slips away from his own. It is all too clear what the Grimm has tried but there is nothing for it. Medical help is more important now. Not once does the zauberbiest ponder, if he is comfortable with Nick seeking contact. He can only stare as medics move around his Detective in a flurry of action, administering medication via iv tube, helping him use an inhaler... making him inhale once... twice... a third time, until it finally sounds like there's actually any air getting inside. Once the coughing has subsided the oxygen mask is slipped back on and firmly pressed to his face.

 

>>>

 

Nick is lying with his eyes closed, face ashen, shaking violently and dragging in laborious breaths.

“Couldn't end the day without doing something dramatic, could you, Burkhardt? And that's not even counting rescuing civilians from an inferno.”

The Grimm looks over to him in surprise. Apparently he hasn't expected him to be still there. Renard glares as if he takes that as a personal insult. The emotion is buried quickly but Nick has seen it flicker across those angular features clear as day.

 

“Did you really think I would just leave while you were coughing your lungs out?”

Now there's a bit of true hurt shining through all the snark. Nick can understand why. Renard may be a scheming, strategic master mind and having his own agenda more often than not, but he does care about his subordinates... and obviously about his Grimm. His own expression softens at realizing this.

 

_Who would have thought._

 

Nick makes to take off the mask to answer, but one narrow eyed stare from the half-zauberbiest makes him abandon the movement half way through. It's not as if his coordination is all that great, anyway. He is gratified, though, that the proud Royal's gaze has mellowed somewhat. 

"That stays on, Detective! Keeps you all quiet and non insolent."

Nick's eyes veer over to his tie. Sean follows his gaze and smirks. 

"You think I could simply gag you with my tie again? Tempting. Would certainly cut down the sass to a minimum. But then again, being the naughty little snit you are, you would most likely find a way to be sassy all without saying a single word."

 

Nick's lips quirk up in a slow smile just as his eyes slip shut almost on their own accord. He blinks them open again. He's wiped – tired beyond imagination – but Renard is here and he won't be caught falling asleep in the Royal's presence.

"Why don't you just close them, idiot? It's not like stormy ocean gray is such an irresistible eye color that I yearn to look at it for hours on end.”

Nick's responding gaze – raised, half singed off eyebrow and all – sends a clear message:

 

_For not being interested in my eyes you can describe their color fairly well._

 

The zauberbiest snorts and shakes his head.

“Impossible and rebellious, that's what you are.”

 

Nick doesn't feel insulted for there is much more fondness shining through than Renard has ever wanted to reveal most likely. After holding the other man's gaze for a moment longer, he finally complies and closes his eyes... just to do his proud Prince a little favor and show him that he can be anything other than sassy.

 

At some point long, skilled fingers start carding through his hair. His sweat matted, soot covered, singed in places hair. Did he mention that Renard is very particular about personal hygiene but - apparently - even more particular about comforting his Grimm when he really needs it?

He still hurts like nothing good and breathing still feels like wading through water but somehow it all loses importance in face of a certain Royal's care. With those fingers still in his hair he starts to drift.

 

_What has happened to not falling asleep in Renard's presence?_

 

It is a fleeting thought, soothed away by a continuous stream of touches and low velvety murmurs... some insults strewn in for good measure... but, honestly, he wouldn't have expected anything less.

 

Even if he doesn't admit it on his more rebellious days or when he is pissed at Renard for scheming again, he likes to obey that voice. No one has such a dead sexy, silken drawl like Sean Renard. It is smooth, deep... it is telling him to go to sleep now and that's what he does only moments later.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone wonders: Realizing that their relationship has evolved from just sex to something more doesn't keep them from having more sex... but it may lay the groundwork for something Sean hasn't experienced yet. ;)


End file.
